Look at the Stars

There was a point 
in my life 
when I burned 
every CD yellow. 
Before this golden revelation 
seized me by the knees, 
you were a friend of a friend 
and you kissed 
my kneecaps 
in the darkness of April. 
It was then that I knew 
those stars 
weren’t blinking at me, 
but shining for you, 
which helps me see 
when running 
in the dark. 

The crusty sop 
of downtrodden foliage 
feeds my hasty tennies 
as I trudge 
through wet-wastelands. 
The five corners 
of a trillion rusty leaves 
yellow in the lampposts 
elegantly inhaling 
sulfur breaths. 
A cheap glow 
hesitates in the air 
then dissolves in the cold 
playing all around me. 

I don’t love the 
second friends once removed. 
Didn’t appreciate the 
goodbye mornings. 
But I fancy those eight 
hours in April 
when you saw straight 
through me 
and I didn’t even shiver.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 16th, 2005 at 5:00 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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